… Deda, deda, deda, niko te na svetu ne voli k’o ja

Much like his nature in general, Nestor is quite chilled about his bed time routine. He asks that we lay by him for a few minutes, but for the rest he is pretty flexible. A book, a song, a tickling session, he is not picky. This time we read a book and I started singing to him.
Nestor: “Is that a song that ends with …good night, good night?”
I: “Yes”
He: “I don’t want that song”
I: “Ok, which song would you like me to sing for you?”
He: {long pause}. “Sing the song that Deka (grandpa) used to sing for me”.
I: {a few seconds to put myself back together} “Nestor, which song was that?”
He: “The one Deka used to sing, in Serbian. {starts singing} Dekaaa… Love… I …
I: “Nestor, I would love to sing that song for you but I really don’t know that song”.
He: {visibly disappointed} “Aaahh, ok. Sing the goodnight one first then, maybe you’ll remember…”

And so I sang the consolation prize song, frantically digging through my memory to find the song my then-2 years old child buried in his memory, almost 2 years ago. Listing the Serbian children music CDs in my head, recollecting the voices of beloved children music singers in hope I’d stumble upon the words, the melody, something, anything.
And then I closed my eyes and heard his voice, the voice of my childhood and my children’s childhood, and saw the goofy dance moves that became goofier over the years.

And the song came.
The song about the grandpa who loves his grandchild the way no one else does. And the grandchild who loves his grandpa more than anyone else does.

And with the song came silent tears, and gratitude, and more tears, and memories, and pain, and disbelief. All of it in a children’s song.

And my child drifted off to sleep, comforted by the reminder of the love he probably can no longer consciously recall. The love that remains deep in his early toddlerhood memory, in songs, in smells, in nicknames. And for that I am forever grateful.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Cherished moments, Daily gratitude, Grief, Out of the mouths of babes, Tata

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s